


As Long As You're Mine

by Sulwen



Series: Kolme [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not so much about who is coming with him as who he's having to leave behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> For my kink_bingo square: possession/marking.
> 
> This fic follows my other Adam/Tommy/Sauli, "Something You Can Only Say." I recommend reading that one first, though it's not strictly necessary.

Adam hates having to travel alone. Not that he'll really be _alone,_ not in any true sense of the word, but security and management can hardly be counted as good company even in the best of cases, and anyway, it's not so much about who is coming with him as who he's having to leave behind.

As his departure draws nearer, Sauli tells him loudly and often how much he'll miss him, teasingly asks if he really has to go, if he's _sure_ he can't smuggle a boy or two along in his luggage. Adam laughs and kisses him and see the contentment in his eyes, and knows that Sauli will be fine, will go right along exploring LA and sending stories back home and generally going about his business without him.

Tommy, on the other hand, doesn't say a word about Adam leaving. In fact, he doesn't say much about anything, withdrawing more and more into himself, staying in bed more but actually sleeping less. Adam bites his lip and watches him and hugs him as much as he possibly can, and worries a little about how much Tommy's happiness is in his hands. He doesn't mind the weight of responsibility, would probably enjoy that level of codependency if they had met in another life, another time. But it is what it is, and sometimes Adam's career has to come first. They all know that. They all accept it. Doesn't mean it gets any easier.

The night before Adam's scheduled to fly out, he and Sauli fall into bed early, surrounded by the colorful chaos of Adam's attempts at packing. Sauli stretches out on top of him, his weight easy to bear, welcome, and there are lazy, deep kisses and slow stroking hands, and it should be the sweetest thing in the world, laying here with his boy in his arms.

It's Sauli who breaks away, looks down at him with piercing eyes. “I can feel your thinking,” he says, tapping two fingers gently on Adam's temple. “Worries of flying?”

Adam shakes his head, and his eyes drift toward the open door. Through it, he can see the top of the stairs, dark but for the flickering light of the TV below. He bites his lip again.

Sauli follows his gaze for a moment before turning back, cuddling in deeper, sliding a hand into Adam's hair and stroking softly. Adam's arms go tight around him, and he sighs.

“Why is it he is so sad?” Sauli asks, his face buried in Adam's neck, and for a long moment, Adam has no idea how to answer. He forgets, sometimes, that Sauli still doesn't know Tommy like he does, doesn't have the instinctive knowledge that comes from living in the closest of quarters day in and day out for months at a time.

Adam thinks for a while about how he can explain it. Communicating with Sauli is pretty easy when they're talking about physical things, but abstract ideas are harder, sometimes impossible. There are times he finds himself shaking his head and waving away any attempt at crossing the language barrier, and often ends up putting one or both of their mouths to better uses instead – a language of the body they both speak quite fluently. Still, it's always worth a try, and Sauli is clever, picking up more bits and pieces every day.

“I think, when I go away, it reminds him of how his life was before. You didn't know him then...neither did I, really...but he wasn't happy. Not at all. I think he worries that one day I won't come back, or I won't _want_ him anymore, somehow, and he'll have to go back to...before,” Adam says. It's the first time he's let himself vocalize this line of thinking, and saying it out loud makes it seem more real, painful in a way that vague, shifting thoughts haven't.

Sauli pulls back and looks down at him, forehead lined in confusion. “But you wouldn't. You always come back.”

Adam smiles. “Yeah, I do. You know that and I know that, but...” He trails off, unsure what else to say.

And then Sauli's up and moving before Adam can find his voice again, sliding backward off the bed and onto his feet. Adam goes to follow him, but Sauli stops him with one raised hand, gesturing for him to wait as he makes his way out the door. Adam falls back onto the bed, flat on his back, and listens to the low, indistinguishable hum of voices downstairs. He knows exactly what Tommy's doing right now, but Sauli is still so new, still surprising him in little ways every single day. He stretches his legs out, and puts his hands behind his head, and waits.

Sauli comes back with a smile on his face a few minutes later, pulling a very reluctant-looking Tommy behind him by one hand. He glances at Adam, winks at him quickly and discreetly even as Tommy is protesting.

“Seriously dude, I'm fine, just...” Tommy catches a glimpse of Adam and cuts himself off. “Did you put him up to this?”

Adam shakes his head and raises his hands. “I'm innocent!”

Tommy huffs a begrudging laugh. “Yeah, right. We _all_ know that's a lie.”

A comeback is at the tip of Adam's tongue when Sauli clears his throat loudly, demanding both their attention. Adam's eyes linger on Tommy as he wraps his arms around himself protectively. His eyes go sullen, but he doesn't turn to leave and he doesn't look away from Sauli. When Adam's eyes finally follow, Sauli is staring straight at him, utterly serious.

“Tell him,” Sauli says. Adam raises his eyebrows in an unspoken question. “What you told me. Tell him.”

Something goes tight in Adam's chest, thick in his throat, and suddenly he feels just as serious as Sauli looks. He turns back to Tommy with an apology in his eyes, and maybe he's done nothing wrong, but he hasn't quite done everything right, either.

He reaches a hand out toward Tommy and says, pleadingly, “Baby...”

Tommy's hands go to cover his face, cover the little whine he can't quite help making, and Adam feels for him. Tommy's never been very good at the whole 'talking about your feelings' thing, and Adam hasn't pressed him. Maybe he should have. Maybe that's why they're in this situation to begin with.

“Come on, baby, c'mere,” Adam says, genuine, cajoling, and finally Tommy reaches out and takes Adam's hand, lets himself be pulled into the bed, into Adam's arms. Adam closes his eyes and holds him close, all the weight of him resting on Adam's body as Sauli had been just minutes earlier. It strikes Adam, suddenly, how very different they are, how even with his eyes closed he would know in a mere moment exactly who it is he's wrapping up in his arms. He knows the distinct scent of each of them, the pattern of their breathing, the beat of their hearts. He knows the touch of their hands, the hard calluses on Tommy's fingertips and the slipshine smoothness of the scar on Sauli's left wrist. He knows the taste of them, the shape of their lips, the heat of their bodies inside and out. And he knows the way they feel as they open up around him, Tommy all pliant acceptance, Sauli giving back as good as he gets.

Right now, he knows that Tommy is even more unhappy than he's letting on, unable to relax in Adam's embrace, fingers fidgeting uncontrollably even as Adam pulls him closer. And he knows that Sauli is leaning back against the far wall, watching them, proud of himself that he's noticed something Adam hasn't. Competitive streak, that one, but Adam doesn't mind – there's not a touch of meanness in it, only play. Sauli _loves_ to play.

Adam whispers into Tommy's ear, the words for him and him alone. “It's ok, baby. I'll be back in a few days, and...”

“I _know,_ god!” Tommy interrupts, too loud, almost offended.

Adam breathes, strokes a firm, patient hand down Tommy's spine, over and over, soothing. “Shh, I know you know. Just listen for a minute, ok?”

He waits, and eventually Tommy nods against him, silent but accepting.

“Have I ever lied to you? Ever given you a reason not to trust me?” Adam asks. He's not accusing, not really. He just wants Tommy to think, really _think,_ the same thing Sauli's just done to him.

Tommy shakes his head. No.

“Have I ever given you any reason to think I'm not perfectly, ecstatically happy?”

A pause. “Well, sometimes when you're hungover...”

At that, Adam can't help but laugh. “You little shit, you know what I mean!”

Tommy is smiling now, a tiny little thing Adam can't see, only feel. “No. You seem really happy, actually. Like, _really.”_

“That's because I am. I mean, I never thought things would turn out...you know, like _this...”_ Adam pauses, glances at Sauli over Tommy's shoulder, and though he knows Sauli can't hear his words, he's smiling soft and sweet like he can. “But they did, and it's...it's good. It's _really_ good. And you know part of why that is?”

Tommy shakes his head again. “Why?”

Adam fists a hand deep into Tommy's hair, pulls gently until Tommy's shifted enough to look him in the eye. “Because I don't have to worry about you being here alone. Not that I don't know you'll be fine – I know you will – but I'd rather you be _better_ than fine. I can't focus on work like I should if I know you're sitting at home in a dark room, brooding. Which you _totally_ do, don't even deny it. And I know that Sauli won't let that happen, that he'll take care of you for me. And you'll take care of him, won't you? Promise me?”

It's a hell of a lot of feelings, even for Adam, and he's really not sure what to expect from Tommy. This is not the sort of conversation they have. But by the time Adam's done talking, Tommy's smiling again, a real dopey-happy smile, and his eyes are as warm as melted chocolate, and he doesn't say anything, just nods emphatically and leans down for a kiss, deep and consuming like they used to do on stage, like Sauli still sometimes makes them do for him, when he wants to put on Fever and watch Adam dance.

The kiss gets into his blood, makes his body want to move, and before it can push him into something more, Adam rolls them over until Tommy's on his back and extricates himself from Tommy's grasp, standing and leaving Tommy on the bed. Breathing hard, Adam grins a wicked grin and directs a command down at him, arousal and joy and playfulness all winding through his voice at once.

“Strip.”

Tommy's not smiling any more, his eyes excited, his lips gone slack and heavy, and his hands go to the hem of his shirt without a word. Satisfied, Adam turns to Sauli where he's still standing across the room and points right at him.

“You too, pretty boy. I want you naked and in my bed.”

Sauli bursts out laughing at Adam's directness, but he does as he's asked, flinging his clothes heedlessly here and there as he goes to the bed and flops down next to Tommy.

Still fully-clothed, Adam comes to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at the two of them spread out bare and smooth and perfect, laid out like a fucking _feast._ They complement each other so perfectly, the two of them, and for a while Adam can do nothing but just _look._

They are both built small, but that's where the likeness ends. Sauli's body is all lean muscle, hard where Tommy is soft. His skin, naturally pale, has become darker and darker under the influence of LA sun, and the contrast is beautiful where they touch, Tommy's skin shining white against that deepening brownness. Tattoos cut into their skin in similar places, but they could not be more opposite, Tommy's greyscale horrors mirroring Sauli's bright flowers and songbirds. And there are differences that go deeper than their skin, of course, differences that Adam can read as easily as sheet music. Tommy's arms are flung over his head, his neck bared, and his body is still, waiting. Sauli, though, is less patient, less passive, and already his fingers have found their way to the sharp jut of Tommy's hipbone, rubbing around and around in slow circles, just waiting for Adam's go-ahead. They are both of them undeniably, heartstoppingly beautiful, and even moreso when they are together.

Sometimes – ok, a lot of the time – Adam wonders how the fuck he managed to get so lucky. He grins. Seriously. There's not even a word for how awesome his life is.

He climbs into bed between them, one heavy outstretched hand on each of their chests to keep them in position, and kisses each of them in turn, licks his tongue into their mouths just for the taste of them before pulling away. They both stare at him unblinking, blue eyes and brown, as he lets his hands draw a slow, inexorable path down over their chests, stomachs, soft rasp of body hair. They gasp nearly in unison as he takes a cock in each hand, not stroking yet, just holding, his thumbs brushing slowly through the slicknesses of their arousal.

Adam's actually really, really good at this. It's weird, maybe, because he's not nearly ambidextrous enough to play the drums, or the keyboard, or even paint his nails with his off-hand very well. But he still remembers that day in high school when he realized that jacking off with his left hand made it last longer, feel better, and he's been putting in decent practice time ever since then. And apparently it is true what they say – practice makes perfect.

Sauli seems to think so, at least, his cock pulsing with his heartbeat under Adam's left hand, his hips arching up to find the friction and pressure he so desperately wants, and Adam obliges him, starts stroking him in a slow, twisting motion designed to take him higher and higher without quite pushing him over the edge. With Sauli's throaty moans echoing in his ears, Adam keeps stroking and moves to hover over Tommy's body, bends down until he is close enough to taste, to lap at sensitive pink nipples until they harden into aroused points, perfect to take into his mouth and suck, the rhythm of his mouth matching that of his hand, and Adam might not play any instruments but he can play these bodies to tuneful perfection.

Tommy is whimpering now, whispering Adam's name breathlessly, and Adam slides downward, leaving the wetness on Tommy's chest to cool in the open air. He finds his way to Tommy's hipbone, just the place Sauli had been teasing at earlier until Adam distracted him away. He's still stroking at both of them, a bit harder now, but he can feel their eyes on him as he finds a perfect, unblemished place on Tommy's skin, so pale he can almost see blue veins criss-crossing underneath. It's the work of a moment to dart in, take that beautiful flesh into his mouth and _bite,_ and both his hands go still and tight as he does, holding them as surely as if they were shackled in place. He keeps the pressure on until Tommy's body jerks tight under his lips, sharp with the pain, and then he eases up to lick long, soothing strokes over the hurt place, suck hard into it until the blood rises at his command, the skin going hot and dark with it. Adam pulls back to inspect his work, the purpling darkness he's left behind. It's unmistakeable, that kind of mark, the mottled red of it, the indent of his teeth. And yet...it's not quite enough, not yet. They're both pleading with him now, hips going wild, begging with him to start moving again, something, _anything._ Instead, he leans down again for another bite, teeth worrying at Tommy's skin not quite so deep as the first time, but over and over again. And this time when he pulls back, the mark has taken on the almost shiny quality that means it will linger for a long, long time – days. A week, maybe. Definitely until Adam is back home again.

Tommy cranes his neck and thrusts his hips up to take a look at the mark Adam's left on him for himself, and his breath catches in his throat when he finally gets a glimpse. His eyes flicker up to Adam's face, wild, and Adam releases Tommy's cock for just a moment to let his fingers drift over to the bruise and _press,_ wringing a broken cry from Tommy's lips.

 _“Mine,”_ Adam says, in a tone that will tolerate no argument, and Tommy nods almost frantically as gratitude spreads through his eyes.

Pleased with his work, Adam moves his hand back to resume those slow, maddening strokes over Tommy's cock and turns his body and his attention to Sauli, Sauli who looks like he wants to smile but can't quite manage it, too overcome with need to quite have control even over his own face. Adam smiles instead and looks up at Sauli through his lashes as he licks his way up Sauli's stomach, thrilling at the sensation of fluttering muscle under his tongue. He pauses at Sauli's nipples to lick and suck, tugging at them with his teeth when he finds them not quite as over-sensitive as Tommy's, but he doesn't linger quite as long to tease, unable to keep ignoring his own ever-more-insistent arousal. He licks his way up further, paints lines with his tongue over the beautiful angles of Sauli's collarbones, and he means to keep going up to Sauli's neck, but this is too perfect, this spot where he is right now, mouth worrying the skin just above the bone, soft and vulnerable and oh-so-easy to bruise. He repeats the same motions he'd used on Tommy, biting deeply and sucking hard, licking away the pain whenever he hears Sauli's breath stop – Sauli always holds his breath when he's putting on a brave face. Adam's attention doesn't waver, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Tommy watching rapt as he makes his mark, and it's exhilarating, feeds right into Adam's exhibitionist streak and pushes him higher, harder.

Finally, he releases Sauli and reaches up with his left hand to stroke hard touches into the mark he leaves behind, whispering right into his ear, _“Mine.”_ And at that, Sauli _does_ smile, blindingly bright and cutting directly to Adam's heart.

He sits back on his heels to compare the marks, making sure they're as close to matching as he can get them. It makes him feel heady and powerful and perfect, claiming them, making it impossible for anyone else to look at them like this without seeing his signature written right into their skin, an impermanent and intimate tattoo only he can give.

They are both pushing the edge of desperation, riding the precipice between delicious pleasure and actual pain, and Adam responds in kind, changing his strokes from teasing to purposeful, pushing them both higher, watching with delight as they writhe beneath his touch. He watches as their eyes catch and hold, and something sparks between the two of them that he's not quite a part of, something born of the shared experience they've just been through. Sauli's eyes don't waver from Tommy's face, but Tommy hesitates, glancing up to Adam and back, begging silently. And Adam feels his breath go heavy and his cock swell in his jeans and nods, anxious, wanting to see it, see _them._

Tommy and Sauli surge toward each other, lips clashing in a rough and desperate kiss, Sauli gripping Tommy by the hip and Tommy's fingers finding Sauli's neck, both grasping at the marks Adam has given them as he strokes them over the edge, Tommy first and Sauli following just after, the sharp smell of come filling the room as they pulse hot over his hands, messy pools left in the hollows of their stomachs.

Adam pulls his hands away and stretches the ache out of them, beyond pleased. Tommy and Sauli are still a bit lost, in their pleasure, in each other, and Adam has a moment to himself, to play. He draws his fingers through the cooling wetness coating their bodies, and for a second he has the crazy urge to paint his name on them, write himself into their skin with the come he's coaxed from their bodies. But that would be ridiculous, and he laughs to himself and settles for scrawling a large, hasty “A” over each of them, leaning down one more time to breathe over the writing, dry it into their skin.

When he sits up again, Tommy and Sauli have gotten their breath back and are staring up at him with intensity in their eyes. He's unmistakeably, _achingly_ hard, and they're giving him that _look,_ the one that says they're up for anything, just waiting on him to decide, to give the word. And there are times when it's hard to decide, when the myriad of options spread before him almost renders him unable to choose, but tonight he knows exactly what he wants, what he _needs._

He edges off the bed and stands at the end, unzipping quickly and taking his cock in one hand. With the other, he reaches out toward them, beckons them forward with one finger and fire in his eyes. They crawl to him on hands and knees, their heads bent close as they lean forward to lick, pointed pink tongues lapping over him in a constant overwhelming rush of hot sensation. His knees go weak, and he grips them by their hair and pulls hard, angles them just right, thrusting hard into one mouth and then the other, hardly knowing or caring which is which, eyes closed, lost in the desperate need to _fuck._

He pulls them back the moment before he comes, gets a hand free and strokes himself over the edge in a rough breath of seconds, and he manages to open his eyes just in time to see them right there waiting for him, faces upturned, lips open and panting, and that's _it,_ that's the end of him, his orgasm ripping out from the very base of him as he shoots heavy viscous streaks over their faces, marking them one final time.

When Adam can breathe again, he takes them both by the chin and turns their faces up to his, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, hardly able to _believe_ how happy he is.

“My boys,” he says, and it feels like naming them, like putting the final touch on the roles they've all chosen to play.

And they nuzzle into each other and Adam and pull him back down to join them, pull his clothes from his body so that they are all naked and sweaty and come-streaked and wrapped up in and around each other in a tangled heap. In a few minutes, they're going to have to do the practical thing, get up and shower off the smell of each other and oh yeah, Adam has sort of forgotten to pack _again._ But for right now, he has the warm afterglow of a really good orgasm, and he has two satisfied boys under his arms, _his_ boys, satisfied by _his_ touch, and there's nothing in the world that could convince him to move, to tear himself away from this, his own little slice of heaven.


End file.
